Nerrok casually strode into The Slow Blade, the Horde-side's base of operations for The Grey Tiger Tong. The muscled orc had a pleasant smile decorating his usually grim features, no doubt on account of the recent rendevous he'd had with his lady-friend he'd been frequenting of late...Visions of her jet-black hair and emerald green eyes flickering within his consciousness as he greeted Kareth, the shopkeeper.
"Nerrok...Letter from Undermine, addressed to the Tiger Master of the Horde. I guess ya might wanna take a look at it...", the orc mumbles, before going about his usual business of sharpening blades and taking care of "company business".
Nerrok narrowed his eyes...The pleasantness of his countenance disentegrating instantly. No wonder Booth had run off, he thought to himself. The paperwork alone that required a Tiger Master's attention would drive one mad.
He took the note, and tore open the envelope. The following is what he read, though before Nerrok could finish reading it's entirety, he lost track of time...Indeed, he lost track of his entire being.
"Za'Baal's work has been diligent. He has come to us numerous times in search of answers for the dissapearance of Su'Jin, though unfortunately we could not provide the solution. He should be commended for his work. He is indeed an asset to The Tong, and should be commended as such."
The note went on in excrutiating detail of how Za'Baal had tried doggedly to locate his lost sister, and the trials and tribulations that had accompanied his efforts. Much sweat, pain and bloodshed had gone into the task of locating Su'Jin, on Za'Baal's part.
As Nerrok's blood-red gaze followed the letters down the page, the crimson hue of his vision became, slowly but surely, icey blue with hatred. It didn't take long for the Hunter to put the pieces together.
He had been tricked. Booth had manipulated him. Indeed, he had manipulated every single member of The Tong itself...Claw, Officer, Vanguard, and Master alike. But his former Tiger Master had tricked him the most of all. He had made him think that Za'Baal, the Troll that had inducted him into the Tong...Brought him into the organization that most resembled the closest thing to a family he had ever had....had been a traitor. Nerrok remembered vividly the early fall day that he had led young Korttie away, so that Booth could shove a knife into the troll's temple. He remembered carrying the body, disguised in an empty fish salt sack, to the far reaches of Stonetalon to be disposed of. If he were a traitor, why would he have searched for his lost Sister with such determination? The clues simply did not add up to what he was told to believe. Anger became Rage in an instant, and Nerrok seized the shopkeeper by the throat...hefting the rather large Orc up by one arm, pinning him against the wall as he hissed out his words, his Blood Fury getting the best of him as he took out his frustrations on the poor fellow.
"If you see that lecherous zombie...You tell me. He has tricked me...You...Us. He is no longer your master....", Nerrok struggles to spit out the rest of his words, overcome with grief. "He is no longer welcome here, nor anywhere within The Tong's juridiction. You tell me...For I will not rest until his traitorous blood is painting these walls..."
With that, he lets the orc down, who collapses onto the floor, clutching his throat and gasping for breath. "I...I will, Nerrok...I swear upon Thrall's honor...", he rasps, knelt onto one knee.
The wounded shopkeeper could not stop the rampaging hunter from tearing the shop apart in anguish. Tables were overturned, blades were jammed into the tent walls...The entire Slow Blade was ruined in essence, thanks to Nerrok's uncontrollable fury at this news.
Gathering his thoughts outside the gate of Orgrimmar, he slowly and silently approached the Zepplin platform. Nerrok clutched the note in his fist....Having never experienced his rage at these heights. How could he have been so blind...?, he wondered aloud to himself.
He needed to see Her...To hold Her...To kiss Her...To feel the warmth of Her flesh against his own, to hear her soothing voice comfort his tormented mind. Anything to calm him down, which only She could, at this point. But before that, he had to get this note to Tai Jiang...To explain to him what had happened. To explain to him how he had been betrayed. Indeed....To explain how the entire Tong had been stabbed, literally and figuratively, in the temple.
With his eyes, the windows to his very soul, colored amber and slit diagonally as the zepplin departed for Booty Bay, the spirit of The Hawk possessed the green-skinned hunter.
The Hunt begins.